


Claire Temple's Hero Magnet Dumpster

by Ellabee15



Series: Woman of color fics [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellabee15/pseuds/Ellabee15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire's dumpster magically attracts heroes and they are the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint

Claire was coming off a double shift when a group of guys in masks and black clothes ran out of the alley next to the building. They had guns and bags and were huge. Claire ducked behind a car and waited for them to pass. Living in New York had made her accustomed to danger. Living in Hell's Kitchen had taught her not to engage. She closed her eyes and waited for them to pass, hoping they hadn't spotted her.

Counting to 20 she exhaled and ducked around the car, wondering what they'd been doing in her alley anyways. She got her answer 2 seconds later as she walked past the alley and heard a groan. Rolling her eyes she muttered, "I should have known." Turning down into the alley, she glanced around; it was empty which left...the dumpster, again. She really need to talk to Matt about where he chose to collapse after a fight because this habit was really unsanitary.

"Yeah." A voice groaned. "You better, run." Claire slowed; that wasn't Matt's voice. Bracing herself, she glanced over the side of the dumpster and down onto the bloody, bruised form of an Avenger.

"Hawkeye?"

"Heeeeey." He looked up, and squinted through swollen eyes.

Claire grabbed him, putting his arm over her shoulder, she dragged him to his feet.

"Hey, I am a married man." He slurred.

"I'm sure your wife won't mind me saving your life." Claire grumbled, heaving him higher on her shoulder.

"Mmm, probably." He mumbled. "Nooo, staaaaairs." He said, looking up at the stairs of the building. Claire rolled her eyes. "How about, I bleed out here." He suggested.

"How about you shut up and keep moving?" Claire said through gritted teeth. "Before those guys come back to finish the job and I decide to let them."

Making it up the stairs and into her apartment, She put him on the couch and began to remove his tactical uniform.

"Hey, buy me dinner first." He muttered, pulling away. Claire glared and pointed down at her scrubs.

"You see these? That means I have medical training. Which means I can stop you from getting an infection and dying a horrible death...if you shut up and let me do my job."

Hawkeye looked up at her in surprise, then nodded. "Seems reasonable." He mumbled, undoing the top of his suit. Claire grabbed the emergency first aid kit and washed out his wounds. Stitching them up, she bound them with gauze and bandages.

"There you go, Hawkeye." She said, straightening up and stretching her back.

"Clint." He said.

"What?" She said, rubbing her shoulder and yawning.

"My name's Clint and my kids and wife owe you." He mumbled.

"The fuck is a man with a family doing, shooting arrows into people?" Claire mumbled, going to her kitchen. 

"Excellent question." Clint replied. "How are you so good at this?" 

"I'm an ER nurse." Claire said. 

"Uh huh." Clint said. "You didn't seem surprised to find me bleeding out in your dumpster." 

Claire knew what he was trying to uncover and kept her face even. "It's Hell's Kitchen; stranger things have happened." She paused before adding, "the hospital where I work was shot up by the punisher and attacked by ninjas and zombie kids. After that, finding Hawkeye in a dumpster seems...boring." 

"Ouch." Clint grumbled. "well thank you..."

"Claire." She said. She grimaced down at the blood on the couch, before getting up and getting a glass of water. 

 

 

 

Two days later she found a new couch in her apartment with a box of homemade muffins and a note from a Laura Barton thanking her for saving her dumbass husband and inviting her to come visit her farmhouse whenever her job got too stressful. Claire took a bite of the muffins and sighed. "As long as he and his friends don't make a habit of it." She muttered. 


	2. Luke

"Lucas Cage, did you break into my apartment to clean for me?" Claire put her hands on her hips and glared into the alleyway.

"Technically Jessica stole your key and made a copy." Luke said, throwing the trash bag into the dumpster. He smiled. "You work too hard; making you dinner once in a while and making sure that your apartment isn't a pig sty isn't much compared to all you did for me." 

"I took an oath." Claire said. "And breaking and entering doesn't seem to be a very nice way to say thank you for saving your life." She shook her head. "Do you have any idea what it's like to walk into your place and find it completely cleaned with dinner sitting on the table?" 

Luke laughed. "Seems pleasant." 

"It seems like the opening scene of a horror movie." Claire said. "And spoiler alert. Girls who look like me don't usually make it past act 1, hell we don't even make it past scene 1, if we're in the damn movie at all." 

Luke raised his chin and gave her a knowing smile. "What happened?" 

"What do you mean?" Claire asked. 

"I'm a bartender, Claire; I can tell when someone's been having a rough day. You want to talk about it?" 

Claire sighed and crossed her arms leaning against the alley wall. "It was a rough day at work." She admitted. 

"Jessica mentioned you had to find a new hospital." Luke said. 

"After I got fired from the other one because I wanted to tell the truth." Claire nodded. "I've been doing part time, but...I've been bouncing from hospital to hospital and I'm sure the board of trustees is blackballing me." She shrugged. "Then..." She sighed, "there's...something else." 

Luke looked around. "Well maybe an alley isn't the best place to have this conversation." He'd correctly guessed the weight of the load she was carrying. 

"I'd invite you in, but you've already done that yourself." Claire said. 

Luke chuckled and walked into her building. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Claire said. 

"My mom." Luke said. "She's one of the best cooks you could ever meet. She's from down south." 

"Well she should be given some type of award for teaching you this." Claire said. "My mom tried to teach me to cook, but I'm hopeless." 

Luke laughed. 

"It was her greatest disappointment. When ever I call her she always asks 'mija, how is your arroz con grandules?'" 

"Puerto Rican?" Luke asked. Claire nodded. "My wife used to make that dish." He explained. "She was Puerto Rican as well." 

Claire leaned back and sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I lost someone...in the ER today." She winced. "A man came in with his son. He was...they'd been walking and a car hit them and drove off. The man carried his son in, but...there was nothing we could do. He was basically dead when we arrived." Claire closed her eyes. "A whole damn city bursting at the seams with superheroes and no one could do anything to save this boy." She looked at Luke. "How is that fair?" She asked. "How is it that I can save people who are extraordinary, but there was nothing I could do to help this boy?" 

Luke was quiet. Then walked towards the window. "This city is full of horrors and you can't save everyone. I learned that the hard way; with Reva." He turned back. "We can't save everyone; but we can try." 

Claire smiled, Luke's words were oddly comforting, though they did little to erase the images of blood and the sound of crying from the ER, but she knew that Luke knew that. That he understood. 

"This is gonna sound weird," she said, "but you can break in anytime." 

 


	3. Natasha

"Watch it." The dumpster grumbled as it spat back out the trash bag Claire had just put in it. She blinked and looked up at the sky. 

"What the fuck did I do to deserve this?" she muttered. "Alright; which one are you?" She said, looking into the dumpster, just as the Black Widow stood up. Claire arched an eyebrow; "Hang out in the trash often?" She said. 

"Only yours." The Widow replied. "It seems to be the place to be." she smirked. "You're a popular girl, Ms. Temple. This is the trash where all the cool kids hang; Hawkeye, Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage." She smirked. "I want in." She held up a bag. "Which is why I'm stashing these, here." 

"What are those?" Claire asked then thought better of it. "Never mind, I don't want-" 

"Stun grenades, daggers, EMPs, poison darts, extra stingers, guns and extra ammo." The Widow rattled off. 

"...to know." Claire finished. She closed her eyes and exhaled. "You're putting all this in my dumpster. 

"Concealing it in the side of the dumpster." The Widow said. 

"Using some kind of magic sciencey cloaking tech?" Claire asked. 

"Better." The Widow held up a roll. "Duct tape." 

"Ah ha." Claire said. "And you're hiding it in my trash-" 

"I need ammo stashes all over the city just in case." The Widow replied, nonchalantly pulling a length of tape. "This is a convenient location, especially with all the shit that goes down around here." She motioned to the bag. "You can use anything in here if you want." 

"I"ll pass." Claire deadpanned. "So, Black Widow."

"Natasha." The Widow said. 

"Natasha." Claire said. "Do you want anything, like food or a shower?" 

Natasha smiled. "Clint is taking out a Irish mob cell next week about a block in a half from here. Expect a visit." 

Claire closed her eyes and put her head back, groaning. 

"See you around Claire." Natasha said. "Come to the tower any time." 

 

 

 

 

"Ow." Clint whined. 

"Natasha warned me you were coming." Claire growled. "This would hurt a lot less if I hadn't had to do an extra round of decontamination before, but someone decided to go dumpster diving." 

"Hey that is a quality dumpster you've got there." Clint said, taking a slug of whiskey to brace himself against the pain. "In fact I may store weapons there."


	4. Tony

"I'm just a prom night dumpster baaabyyyyyy."

The off key singing caught Claire's attention as she walked by the alley. She closed her eyes and counted down from 10. She really need to stop walking by this stupid alley. Every time, every damn time, something bad happened or she ended up up to her elbows in some super hero's blood. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before turning her attention to the alley.

"So who's on the menu for tonight?" She asked the universe. "At least send me one of the hot ones."

"Wish granted." A voice replied smugly. She looked over the edge of the dumpster and saw Iron Man lying motionless among the black trash bags and empty take out containers.

"Do I even want to know?" She asked.

"Arms dealer take down gone bad." Tony Stark explained. "You wouldn't happen to have a screw driver, would you? Or a crow bar?"

Clare closed her eyes, fighting the urge to walk away. "You took an oath, you took an oath." she reminded herself. Forcing a grimace, she said "I've got one in my apartment; don't move I'll be right back."

"Yes Ma'am." Stark said.

Going back up the stairs to her apartment she went to look under the sink and pulled out the toolbox. Sitting on the tile she took slow breaths and looked up at the ceiling. "Tomorrow, I look for work outside the city." She promised herself. It was an empty promise. She knew it. Whether she liked it or not; the city was her home. It was part of her. She couldn't leave it and no amount of crazy billionaires in her dumpster could change that. She stood and walked back down to the dumpster. opening the tool box, she held up her crow bar and screw driver for Stark's inspection.

"I need you to pry my face mask open. It's not urgent, but my suit's air filtering system is off line. I won't be able to breathe in about...5 minutes."

Claire nodded, going to work. Hesitating slightly, she jumped over the edge of the dumpster, kneeling by his head. Within about a minute and a half she'd pulled the mask off his face. Tony Stark blinked open his eyes and gasped in a deep breath of air.

"Urg that tastes like trash." He coughed.

"You're in a dumpster." She pointed out.

"You're in a dumpster." Tony retorted.

"Saving your metal ass." She retorted, tapping his chest plate. "So, why can't you move?"

"Because those stupid weapons dealers had some type of knock off tech that overrode the controls on my suit." Tony said. "It was a slow transition, so I landed here because it was the safest place I could reasonably get to." He squinted at her. "You are Claire, right?"

"Unfortunately." Claire said, adjusting her hold on the crow bar and prying open his chest plate.

"I like a woman with determination." Tony remarked.

"Well this woman has a crow bar and you've made her late to work." Claire said. "So I wouldn't push her too hard."

When Tony was free, they both got out of the dumpster. "I need a drink." He said.

Claire checked her watch. "And I am too late to even bother going into work." She leaned against the edge of the dumpster.

"Don't worry," Tony said. "One phone call and a couple new pieces of equipment and they'll make you head nurse in charge." He looked down at the ruins of his suit. "You're pretty handy with that crowbar."

"Well you know how it is," Claire deadpanned. "You get kidnapped by the Russian mob and you learn a few skills." Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You are a fascinating woman." He said, "so, can I use your phone?" He held out his hand and gave her a smile that was an attempt to be endearing, but failed.

Claire pulled it out of her pocket and sighed, putting it in his palm. Turning she walked back into her building. He followed, giving orders to someone named Happy to pick him up. He looked around her apartment as he hung up. "So this is where the magic happens?" He said, looking around. "Do you only have that small first aid kit." He pointed to the box she kept stashed by the couch ever since Matt's first late night visit.

"I only have the equipment I can borrow from the hospital or buy from pharmacies." she said.

Tony nodded. "Well, Claire, I don't say this often, but..." He paused, looking out the window. "Was that Daredevil?"

Claire turned to the window and looked out, down to the dumpster. Matt was lying in the trash, giving her a guilty smile. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two days later, there was a knock at the door, then it opened to admit a small Asian woman in a pants suit with a stack of papers. Behind her were workers who were  bringing in equipment. Claire gaped and glared at the woman in charge. "What the fuck is going on?" 

"These men are updating your medical equipment, I'm Dr. Helen Cho." She smiled and held out her hand. "Barton mentioned  that you were looking for a job. I'm setting up a specialized clinic uptown. The clinic would be open 24/7 and be open and free to the public; funded by donations and Mr. Stark. However there would be a special portion of it's reasources allocated to...patients of a more singular nature." 

Claire had heard of Dr. Helen Cho; who hadn't, she was a legend in the medical field. Clearly Stark must have sent her and the equipment and supplies, but why was she telling her about this new clinic? 

"Mr. Stark would like you to run the clinic." Helen Cho smiled. "Claire, right? Claire Temple." 

"Yes, Dr. Cho." She said. "I...I'd have to think about it." 

"Just call me Helen." She replied. "I understand. When I first began working with the Avengers I was...annoyed. They kept showing up at my facility in Seoul." 

Claire snorted. "I know the feeling. I thought it was just because I was nearby that they kept showing up." 

"The truth is you can't hide from them." Dr. Cho said. "Not even in Korea." 

"Good to know." Claire said sarcastically. Helen smiled, handing her a card. 

"This is the address to the new clinic. Think about it." She smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Claire entered the clinic the next day.

"CLAIRE BEAR." Tony waved at her. "Welcome to your new home away from home."   


	5. Sam

CRASH

Thump

Claire was sitting on her couch reading when the noises started. She closed her eyes. "There's a front door." She grumbled, putting her book down. Walking over to her window, she opened it, shivering against the cold night air. Looking down, she squinted at the dumpster. It was empty. She frowned, then mentally chided herself. She knew she'd gone off the deep end when not finding a superhero in the trash seemed bizarre.

"Little help?" A voice said from above. She looked up and bit back a gasp. The Falcon was stuck in the fire escape above her. His wings were caught in the metal bar and he was dangling over the side. He pulled off his goggles and waved. "HI, you're Claire, right? I'm Sam. We met at the clinic. I was the idiot next to Cap who told you you had pretty gloves."

"I remember." Claire smiled. "Well, let's see if I can get you down from there." She climbed out on to the fire escape and up the ladder. Inspecting his wing pack, she frowned. "Do you want me to call someone to help?"

"Well, to be honest." Sam coughed. "This kinda hurts, so the faster you can get me down, the more I love you." He took a few shallow breaths. "The straps are cutting into my ribcage. My male ego would really appreciate not bursting into tears in front of you because of a crushed chest."

"Okay, okay." Claire muttered unfastening one of the straps on his wings. He pitched sideways, letting out a cry. He was only hanging on a diagonal. Claire paused. "Sam, I'm going to need you to swing around and try to turn yourself and grab hold of this fire escape. Because when I undo this strap you're going to fall."

"Yes boss." He gritted his teeth, bracing himself, before swinging around. grabbing hold of the fire escape. He let out a small hiss of pain. That's when Claire saw the blood.

"What's that?" She asked.

"It's only a flesh wound." Sam said.

"Do not pull that Monty Python crap with me, Sam. I hear way too much of that at work." She growled, trying to inspect the injury. There was a gash on his upper back. It was shallow, but long. "Try to pull yourself up, into the fire escape." She ordered. Sam winced, but gave her a small nod. Grunting and groaning, he pulled himself up. Claire reached down and grabbed a bunch of his suit at his lower back, pulling him over. The momentum sent her sprawling back with him on top of her. The cold metal of the fire escape bit into her back. 

"Sorry." Sam mumbled, trying to pull himself up but buckled under a wave of pain. Gritting his teeth, he rolled over, collapsing. "That's going to hurt in the morning." 

Claire got to her feet, gently pulling him up. "Come, let's get you stitched up." 

"Does this come with doctor patient confidentiality come with this?" Sam asked, following her down the ladder to the landing outside her window. 

"Why, do you have a rash you need me to look at?" Claire asked. Sam let out a small sound that might have been a laugh. 

"No, I'd just don't wanna deal with what the guys are gonna say when they find out, but if they find out I was dangling over the side..." He trailed off.

Claire smiled. "I won't tell." 

Claire stepped into her apartment, turning to help Sam through the window. He looked around. "Nice place." 

"Get on the table." She instructed. "Take off your uniform top and lie face down." 

Sam did as instructed. Crossing his arms and resting his head on them. Claire dug through the boxes of supplies and snapped on a pair of gloves. Carrying the other supplies over, she began cleaning the wound. Sam pressed his lips together and pushed his face on his arms, bracing himself against the pain. 

"And...all done." She said after a few minutes. Sam gulped, and gave her a jerky nod, sitting up. 

"You've got a surprising comfortable table." He remarked. "Thank you, Claire." He flashed her a bright smile, and shifted nervously. "I hate to ask, but...can I borrow your phone?" he flushed. "Need to get back to the Tower. Just don't know what I'm going to tell the others." He looked down, embarrassment evident on his face. 

"Easy." Claire said, smiling. "Just tell them you landed in the dumpster." 


	6. Thor

The salary Stark was giving her for running the clinic was...excessive. Not that she was complaining; it was just that she'd never had that type of money and she had no idea what to do with it.

She walked into her building and met Mrs. Lopez. She was holding two shopping bags in the entrance hall and struggling to begin climbing the stairs.

"Buenas tardes, senora Lopez." Claire said. "Necesitas ayuda?" She motioned to the shopping bags. Mrs. Lopez lived alone on the fourth floor. She had a bad hip, but since the building had no elevator she had to climb 3 flights of stairs to get to her apartment.

"Gracias, Claire." Mrs. Lopez handed her one of the bags with a grateful smile.

It wasn't fair. Claire thought, that because the building was full of low income people that they weren't allowed to have a decent place to live. An elevator was the least of the things they needed. An overhaul of the pipes, the heating and electricity needed to be updated and she wasn't sure that there wasn't asbestos in the laundry room. But the building super was an asshole and he only cared about putting the rent money in his pocket, not taking care of the actual people who lived in the building...which gave her an idea.

Calling Matt as soon as she got to the top of the stairs and said goodbye to Mrs. Lopez, she had him go over the legal precedent and had set up a meeting with the super by the time she got to her apartment. She was going to buy the building and make sure that Mrs. Lopez wouldn't risk hip surgery simply because she needed to bring food up to her apartment. She was feeling really good about herself and was celebrating with a glass of wine when Santino knocked on her door.

She smiled, "hey, Santino." The look on the teenager's face gave her pause. He was nervous and...laughing? "Que pasó?" She asked.

He motioned for her to follow. Down the stairs they went and...into the alley.

"Who is it this time?" She grumbled, pushing past Santino and looking at the Dumpster...where Thor, the god of thunder was standing, looking as though hanging around in a dumpster was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. Santino pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture before running back inside the building. Claire turned her attention back to Thor.

"You must be the Lady Claire." He said, grinning.

"Yes..." Claire nodded slowly. "I am...the lady Claire. Did you fall?"

"No, I climbed in." Thor said. Claire let out a laugh, but his expression was completely serious.

"Why?" She asked, walking closer to the dumpster and running a hand through her hair. "Why are you standing in the garbage?"

"As I understand it this garbage is the way one would gain a meeting with you."

Claire closed her eyes and covered her face. The boys often talked about how easy it was to trick Thor because of his lack of experience with the world. He was so trusting. "Stark tell you that?" She asked.

"Yes!" Thor exclaimed than his face fell. "They have tricked me, haven't they?"

"Yup." Claire nodded, lowering her hand.

Thor sighed and climbed out of the dumpster. "I suppose I should apologize."

"To the trash?" Claire said. "Stark's an asshole. Did you want something from me?"

"Well I wished to meet you." Thor explained, holding out his hand. "Natasha said you, Barton, and she were planning on taking dance lessons together."

Claire closed her eyes. "Nat was supposed to keep that quiet." She winced, putting her hand in his. "It was to help surprise Barton's wife. Clint wanted to take ballroom lessons, but didn't want to go alone." She blushed as Thor lifted her hand and brushed his lips against it. She flushed and looked around. Passerby were beginning to pay attention. She motioned to the entrance of the building. "Wanna come inside?"

Thor nodded.

"Why do you want to take ballroom lessons?" Claire said as she began climbing the stairs with Thor behind her.

"Natasha mentioned you had need of a partner for the lessons. I thought I'd offer my services."

Claire coughed. "I'm sorry..." She stopped and turned in the middle of the stairs to look at him. Even though he was too stairs down, he was at eye level. "You want to take ballroom lessons with me?"

"I want to participate in the lessons." Thor said. "I am a proficient dancer and it would not hurt to learn a few Midgardian dances to bring a bit of change to the Asgardian court next time I visit."

Claire smiled and began walking again. "You sure you want to be my partner?" 

"I have 300 years worth of lessons forced upon me by my mother." Thor scoffed. "How difficult could a few midgardian classes be?" His broad smile took the slight out of his words. What he added next made Claire pause again. "I realize that you spend your time surrounded by pain and blood, so it might be beneficial for you to have an activity that doesn't involve either." He smiled. "As I seldom have injuries, I have no need of your healing services. So this may be a chance to become friends." 

Claire smiled. "You're really sweet, you know that?"

Thor gave her a blinding smile.

"And any time you want to drop in you can use the front door, not the dumpster." she smirked. "That's reserved for Stark."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days later Thor took her up on that offer as he and Clint sat groaning under mountains of ice packs on Claire's couch. Natasha and Claire stifled their laughter. 

"How are those 300 years of dance lessons looking now, Thor?" Claire asked, wrapping Thor's arm. 

"They did not prepare me for the tango." He grumbled. 

"I still don't get what you tripped over." Natasha said, poking Clint in the arm. 

"Well, not all of us went to freaky assassin ballet boot camp." Clint groaned. "Please wait until tomorrow to kill me. I can't move right now." 

Claire grinned at Natasha. "I can sedate him if you want." 

"Nah..." Natasha replied. "Laura's nice and if I hurt him she'll never forgive me." 


	7. Jessica

Claire let out an exasperated laugh when she read Jessica's text.

_I'm in your dumpster._

"Why?" She said as she stood, glaring over Jessica. The other woman was lying in the trash, and waved up at her.

"This is the most comfortable trash in all of Hell's Kitchen." Jessica said stubbornly. "And I would know."

Claire laughed. "You couldn't have collapsed somewhere closer to my apartment? Like my fire escape?"

Jessica squinted up and shock her head. "It's so high up." she groaned.

"You can super jump." Claire pointed out. Jessica snorted.

"Super Jump." She slurred in amusement. 

"So I'm assuming you have a better word for it." Claire shot back. Jessica chuckled.

"Touche." She held out her arms. "Help me up."

Claire sighed, but grasped Jessica's arms, bracing herself and pulling her up. "Might I remind you," she said through gritted teeth. "Who has the super strength here?"

"But I'm also super drunk." Jessica said, sitting up.

"That's nothing new." Claire muttered, stepping back as Jessica stood and stepped over the side of the dumpster. She stumbled as she stepped onto the ground.

"Bitchy." Jessica remarked. "I must be wearing off on you."

"Must be." Claire said. "You injured?"

Jessica's expression closed off and she looked away. "Not Physically." She said. Claire frowned, wondering what could be wrong...then she remembered the date and what made it so significant. It was the anniversary of the date Jessica had lost her free will.

"Wanna come up and sleep it off?" Claire asked. Jessica nodded, throwing an arm around Claire's shoulder and leaning against her.

"At least this time I didn't have my pants down." Jessica mumbled as they walked into the building. Claire laughed.

"Well, the night is still young."


	8. Steve

"Why is it always my alley?" Claire grumbled as she heard the sounds of a fight outside. Sticking her head out her window she frowned at the brawl beneath her window. There were 9 guys attacking 1. Claire was about to grab her phone and call the police when she recognized the man they were attacking. Those poor idiots; they had no idea what they'd gotten themselves into.

She shut the window and waited. After a while the sounds from outside died down. She got up and left her apartment, taking the elevator down. Walking into the alley, she crossed her arms.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to fight in alleys?" She asked. The blonde man, the only one still standing, turned and wiped the blood from small cut above his lip.

"She did," Steve said, turning with a slight grin on his face. "I didn't listen."

She looked at the 9 unconscious men. "What did they do?" She asked.

"Well." Steve sighed. "This one." He kicked, a red head next to his foot. "Was harassing a woman. I told him to stop and he decided to get confrontational." He winced as he rolled his shoulders. "And he brought some friends." He let out a small laugh. "I told him to bring 3 more to make it an even fight."

Claire laughed. "Who would have thought that America's golden boy got into back alley fights?"

Steve crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. "Didn't you read your history books? That's how I started...though never without a good reason."

"Oh, of course." Claire said. She frowned as she checked him over. He sensed her scrutiny and shook his head.

"I'm fine, Claire." He said.

She rolled her eyes. "Super soldiers. Just because you have super healing-"

"Doesn't mean I'm invincible." Steve finished. "You sound like Sam."

"Well Fly boy some times gets a get idea." Claire said.

"You mean when he's not dangling over fire escapes?" Steve retorted. Claire laughed.

"Let me guess; Nat found out."

"She has her ways." Steve replied. Claire motioned towards the entrance of the alley.

"Come on. I need to check you over and it's probably best to do that somewhere sterile." She glanced down at Steve's attackers. "And we don't want to be here when they wake up and demand round 2."

Steve smirked. "That would be bad." He agreed. "For them." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He sat straight backed on her couch, eyes flitting around the room. 

"I don't see any external injuries." Claire murmured, looking over his head. "Follow the light." She flashed a light in his eyes. His eyes followed it without a problem. "Okay, are you feeling any dizziness, faintness?" 

Steve shook his head. 

"No concussion." Claire said. "Now, any pain?" 

Steve breathed heavily before replying, "there's a small pain in my lower back." 

Claire crossed her arms. He looked up, sticking his chin out defiantly. It  was a funny action for a man of his size. Then Claire realized that many of his mannerisms were those of a much smaller sized man who hadn't yet realized how tall he was. When he was fighting, he was exact, graceful, fluid, but off the battle field, he carried himself awkwardly, like he wasn't sure where he fit or where he belonged. 

"Steve." She said, chidingly. "If something hurts; you tell me. I can't help you if you're not honest with me. Hiding pain only makes things worse." 

He looked down, peeking at her from beneath his lashes. He was flushed and embarrassed. "Sorry, ma'am." 

"Ma'am?" Claire chortled. He coughed and shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, Rogers. I'm going to need you to take off your shirt." He looked up, Claire sighed. "So I can see where it hurts." She clarified. He pulled his shirt over his head. Claire sat next to him and examined his back as he turned. There was bruising along his lower ribs. She gently put her fingers against it. Steve sucked in a small breath, but didn't move. 

"They're not broken." Claire said, probing them gently. "But they are cracked. I know you have super healing, but I'm going to have to wrap them and you," she poked his shoulder, "are going to have to take it easy for a few days. No more back alley boxing matches." 

Steve sighed heavily, but offered no protest as she got the bandages. She gently wrapped the bandages around his waist. "Thank you, Claire." He murmured. 

"I think you mean, 'thank you ma'am'." Claire corrected. Steve looked up in surprise, then smiled when he saw the look of amusement on her face. 

He stood and pulled his shirt over his head, gingerly covering his new bandages. Claire put the extra bandages in the emergency kit and was closing it when Steve's tentative voice gave her pause. "Claire...there was...another reason I was in that alley." 

"Does it have something to do with the dumpster?" She asked, looking back at him. 

"The dumpster?" He seemed thrown. "No?" 

"Natasha hid a weapons stash there." Claire explained. 

Steve let out a small laugh. "Sounds like Nat." He said. "No...it's just. Stark's throwing this big party next week and it's formal." 

"He invited me." Claire said. 

Steve flushed. "Were you planning on going alone?" He asked. 

"Yeah." Claire said, standing. "My job keeps me pretty busy. There's no real chance for a social life when random Avengers fall out of the sky and into my trash on my off hours." She paused. "Not that I don't like what I do. Stark's new facility lets me help lots of poor people in NYC who need good medical care, but..."

"It gets lonely." Steve finished. Their eyes met and Steve shifted again before saying. "I hear you've been taking ballroom lessons. Thor says you're quite good." 

Claire laughed. "Hm. He told me I move with the grace of a Valkyrie." She frowned. "I guess that was a compliment." 

"Would you like to test those dance moves?" Steve said. "At the formal...with me?" 

Claire paused. "Captain Rogers...are you asking me to go to the dance with you?" 

Steve cleared his throat. "Yes." 

She put the med kit on the desk and sat next to Steve. 

"You don't need to say yes if you don't want to." Steve said. 

"Just give me a second." Claire said. "It's not every day I get asked out by Captain America." 

 


	9. Bucky

There was a figure digging through the dumpster. Claire caught sight of him as she was bringing in her groceries.

"Hey." She said, holding out one of the bags. "Do you want these?"

The man looked up, startled. Then he turned and ran, climbing the fire escape and disappearing on the roof of the building. Claire watched him leave and sighed. That night she left a plate of food on the fire escape. She doubted he'd come back, but she'd sleep better knowing there was food available to him. When she checked the next morning, it was gone. She didn't tell anyone; after all homeless people in NY were very common. That day, she met with Pepper and had a conversation about building a a shelter to help the homeless population find job opportunities and rebuild their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Some one's been watching you." Matt said, coming in through the fire escape.

"You mean someone besides a horn wearing vigilante?" Claire said, checking him over for injuries. Matt pulled off his helmet.

"I'm fine." He said. Claire scoffed. She'd heard that one before.

"Why don't I believe you?" She asked.

"It's true." He said. "I came by here for the last three nights and for the last three nights he's been here. Looking at you."

Claire felt a sense of unease. "Is he dangerous?" She asked. Matt shook his head.

"I'm not sure." Matt said. "His heart rate is calm, but there's something else...his blood doesn't move in his left arm. It's metal."

Claire's eyes widened. "Metal?" She said softly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Matt said. "Why do you ask?"

There was no point in trying to lie to him so she gave him a smile and said. "Something Steve mentioned."

"Oh, Steve." Matt teased.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"You should have heard your heart rate when you said his name." He smirked. "And the temperature of your skin rose...Claire, I believe you have feelings-"

Claire smacked his chest. "Finish that sentence and the next time you come here bleeding, I won't open the window."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next time she saw him he was in the dumpster...bleeding.

"Help." He croaked.

She hauled him into the elevator and up to her apartment. Leading him to the couch, she put him down gently. "I need to have a look at this, so I'm going to take off your shirt." She maintained eye contact, making sure he had understood. He nodded, helping her pull the material over his head. Claire had to bite back a gasp. Steve had explained what Hydra done to him, but nothing prepared her for the sight of the prosthetic arm and the messy job the scientists had done. He looked away from her, ashamed. 

"Bucky." She said softly. He turned and looked at her; wide eyed and scared. "I'm a friend of Steve's." She said. "I promise I won't hurt you." 

"I know." His voice was raw. "I saw you with him...it's why I came here." 

He fell silent, staying still as a stone as she cleaned the wound and stitched him up. 

"You hungry?" she asked, taking off her gloves. She handed him one of Steve's shirts, he looked at it, blankly. "That old shirt is dirty and you'll infect cut I worked so hard on." 

He took it and looked at it. She turned to grab the phone and heard her window open. She sighed, looking at the now empty couch before dialing. "Steve. I've got a lead on Bucky." 


	10. Bruce

An alien army attacked New York. 

The Avengers and Defenders banded together to fight back and keep the City safe. Claire was helping with the evacuation, while trying to make her way to the clinic to prepare for the wounded. A large group of aliens with laser guns dropped in front of her. 

This is it, she thought to herself, bracing for the worst as one of the creatures raised his weapon. Suddenly a roar sounded out. The shot never came, but a loud metallic clang, made her jump. She opened her eyes to see a mass of green muscle in front of her, swinging a dumpster. It was dripping black ooze and she suspected that the aliens were well beyond being able to shoot her. 

"Hulk." She said. The large green man stopped and turned, looking down at her as if awaiting instruction. "Can you get me to the clinic? Dr. Banner works there. I need to begin helping with the emergencies." 

Hulk nodded and picked her up. Running through the streets, he used the dumpster to swing at any oncoming aliens. 

Wouldn't it be funny if it were my dumpster, Claire thought to herself as she thanked Hulk and dashed inside the clinic. Hours later, when Dr. Banner came into the clinic to help with the injuries, clutching a small fragment of it in his hand, she found out it was. He looked down at it in surprise, as if he didn't fully remember taking it, then said; "I think I broke it." 

 

 

 

Clint insisted on having a memorial service at his farm where they buried the fragment in a box in his yard next to his children's hamsters. The "ceremony" consisted of him and Tony taking turns trying to out do each other giving increasingly melodramatic speeches while everyone tried desperately not to laugh. It was just what they needed to break their misery after the battle. Though the aliens and been defeated and the city left mostly intact, there had been a large amount of injured people.

Tony had replaced the dumpster by the time Claire got back to her building in Hell's Kitchen. 

"Who do you think is going to end up in it first?" Steve asked teasingly, familiar with what Claire had begun to refer to as the "dumpster curse." Claire shook her head. 

"Just make sure it's not you." She said, eliciting a laugh from Steve. She turned on the steps of her building, intent on giving Steve a kiss goodnight when a crash came from the alley. They looked at each other in alarm. "You have got to be kidding me." She said, walking over. "Not already." Steve followed her. Poking his head out of the trash was a young boy in a red and blue outfit with a spider and dark goggles covering his eyes. 

"Hey." He said, cheerily waving at Claire and Steve. "Nice night..." He froze, leaning forward. "Holy fudgeballs Captain America."

"Holy fudgeballs?" Claire said. 

Steve frowned. "How old are you, son?" 

"Uuuuuuuh." the boy looked back and forth between them before shooting something out of his wrist and swinging away. "See you around." He called over his shoulder as he disappeared.

Claire looked over at Steve. "Have Matt track him down before Tony gets him?" She asked. He nodded. Claire looked over at the dumpster. "I'm getting the feeling that won't be the last time we see him." She muttered, leaving the alley with Steve.


End file.
